


The Dragon and the Bard

by Firefoxkitsune



Series: Sans the Dragon [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Blood, Fatal Vore, Gen, Giant/Tiny, Implied digestion, Soft Vore, Threats of Vore, Vore, can you tell there's vore yet?, implied vore, multiple prey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-05-27 16:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15028784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firefoxkitsune/pseuds/Firefoxkitsune
Summary: Sans gets a strange late night visitor, and invites them inside his home totally out of the kindness of his soul and certainly not to have them for dinner. Only a man-eating monster would do that.





	1. Unfortunate Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck it I've been holding onto this for ages and I want to release it into the wild. Be free, my obscure fandom fetish contribution!!
> 
> Also if you're here it probably means you are also into obscure fandom fetish trash and I welcome you and hope you enjoy your stay.

He smells blood.

 

Why does he smell blood?

 

Sans chokes on a snore at the sharp scent, his sleep addled mind still processing being awoken. He hears the heavy downpour outside pelting the mountain with sheets of rain, and the low rumble of thunder in the distance. His hollow is dark, so it must still be late into the night. His glowing eyelights fizzle into their sockets and do a quick scan of his den, but everything is exactly as it was before he turned in for sleep. But that scent...he knows blood when he smells it, especially if it’s human. It’s sweet. And it’s  _ fresh _ . He swears for just a second, he can taste it clearly, and an emptiness claws at him from his stomach. Confused and intrigued, the dragon stretches and makes his way towards the entrance of the cave.

 

The tunnel into the mountain isn’t particularly long, but it’s enough to give him some warning when he has intruders. It’s difficult to be quiet when you’re made entirely of bone, but Sans tries to be stealthy as he crawls along the stone. Hopefully the storm outside will cover up most of the noise. He peeks around the corner of a sharp bend just as a flash of lightning cracks across the sky, and sees a small form huddled near the entrance in the sudden light. They must be taking shelter here…

 

The smell is stronger: strong enough that the monster feels himself start to salivate. He wants them. He thinks he knows how good they taste, somehow...of how they feel squirming on his tongue. Vivid flashes of deja vu. In his haste he forgets to be quiet and takes a step closer, the grating sound of bone hitting stone alerting his prey. Their head snaps up, and those wide eyes meet his. Although they seem startled, there’s some other emotion Sans can’t quite read on their face. It’s too distorted by the fatigue and grimaces of pain. Their attire is fairly plain: mostly cloth and leather in a fashion typical of poorer human settlements. The human is clutching their side, where a large tear in the cloth exposes their wound, already drenched a deep red that seeps between their fingers. They press into it a little harder, and the dragon can’t help glancing down with interest.

 

The intruder shuffles back a bit, their eyes still wide and observant. 

 

“A monster...wow, you-you’re huge…!” He sees the awe in their expression, and feels just the slightest bit flattered. They grin at him nervously, “I, uh, sorry for bothering you...It’s, uh, storming pretty bad out there, isn’t it?”

 

They’re….apologizing? To him? They seem nervous; more so than what’s already expected given just what he  _ is _ . Sans keeps up his careless facade despite his surprise.

 

“sure is, and sure am. of all the places you could duck into, it just hadta be the one occupied by a dragon, eh? heh, some luck you have, kid.” He winks, hoping to set them at ease in his presence. This’ll be easy if he can convince them he’s not a threat. They’re still pretty far away, and he doesn’t want to risk them slipping away under the cover of night.

 

The human nods sheepishly, “Ha, yeah, that seems to be a theme of mine...” They chuckle humorlessly, those sharp eyes glancing between the roaring storm and the potential threat before them. “I, um, understand if you want me to leave. But I would really appreciate if you’d let me wait out the rain...I promise I won’t be too much of a disturbance. Or, I guess, I already am?” Sans almost misses what they just said; he’s having a hard time reigning in his instincts when they smell so… _.so good _ . He has to look away when he observes a small drop of crimson drip onto the ground.

 

“naw, don’t be like that, buddy. s’rude not to be a good host to a visitor, especially so far outside human settlements. howzabout you come on back? i don’t-” he hastily wipes away some drool threatening to spill through his teeth “-don’t uh, usually get much company up here. pretty remote location and all, ya know? folks don’t tend to, uh, stick around for long. heh.” the monster’s grin is relaxed, friendly even, as he jerks his head back to indicate where he came from. 

 

“Um…” The human hesitates, thinking through their options. They eye him closely, trying to discern his intentions, then drop their gaze to the burlap pack they’re carrying. 

 

“look, you’re soaked down to the  _ bone _ , and yer gonna need somethin’ for that gash. s’not gonna close up like that, and i’m pretty sure humans need that stuff.” He nods down at them again, giving a meaningful sweep of his eyelights to the slowly growing pool of blood next to them. He’ll need to clean that up later, so it doesn’t deter future  _ visitors.  _ “whadda ya say, pal?” The monster extends his clawed hand out, palm up, as if to accept their small hand in his. A friendly gesture.

 

“You...you’d really help me?” They inquire, voice soft. With one last glance outside, they slowly rise to a stand, drawing in a sharp gasp of pain at the action. They adjust their bag on their shoulder, and give him a nod and a small smile. They don’t take his hand. “Even after I _ rattled your bones _ this late at night? That’s really kind of you, Mister Dragon.”

 

Sans’s eye sockets widen a bit and he lets out a surprised bark of laughter, which makes the human smile with more confidence. That sure got a genuine chuckle out of him. Rattled his bones! Ha! And  _ Mister Dragon _ ? That’s certainly a first.

 

“heh, that was a good one, kiddo. a real  _ rib tickler _ .” He withdraws his extended hand, not offended in the least if the glimmer of humor still in his eyes is to be believed. “shall we?”

 

“After you, Mister Dragon.”

 

The skeleton shrugs. He’d really rather they go first, for...obvious reasons. Oh well. In due time. He makes a show of turning around, and catches them looking him over again with a sense of fearful wonderment out of the corner of his eye. He raises an eye ridge, but says nothing as he crawls back towards his den. What a strange little human. He hears them take a step to follow, and together they start the short trip through the tunnel. 

 

“So what’s your name? If that isn’t too forward of me to ask, that is. I’m Frisk, by the way. I can’t say I’ve heard of any monsters still living in this desolate region…” They inquire.

 

Heh, desolate is right. Which makes him wonder about his visitor even more. 

 

“...name’s sans, kid. i like to keep a low profile. you know how it is.” His deep chortle resonates off of the cave walls. 

 

“Right...I can understand that. It’s terrible, how hostile humans and monsters have become to each other. So much violence...I just wish things could sort themselves out somehow…go back to how things used to be...” 

 

Sort themselves out? They make it sound like there’s been a disagreement, not the bloodshed it’s become, he thinks to himself. He hesitates to use the word “war” now, since he certainly remembers how vicious the last one was...but for now, it’s a free for all. He glances back at them, watching them think carefully about something, before they notice him watching and beam a small, hesitant smile at him.

 

“But you seem like a nice person! Er, dragon. Or monster. You don’t even know me and yet you’re offering me shelter. And! If we can be friends, that just shows that there’s hope! Right? I’ve never been invited into a monster’s home…”

 

As they approach the center of the mountain, Sans stops for a second to simply...stare. The warm genuineness of Frisk’s words and their smile bring the faintest hue of a blue blush on his cheekbones. And maybe even a sliver of guilt. The naive sentiment makes him want to scoff, but they seem to so firmly believe it that he just can’t bring himself to. It reminds him of someone…

 

Someone who’s dead. Dead because of…

 

... _. _

 

Right. There’s a reason this region is  _ desolate _ . He couldn’t quite contain his rage upon finding the dust.

 

The warmth he felt is gone, and he focuses back on his instincts. His instincts to  _ consume  _ the source of that sharp, delicious scent. It’s what he needs right now. It’s familiar.

 

The tunnel opens up into the mountain’s core, and with a wave of his skeletal hand the large room is bathed in an ethereal blue light. Along the outer walls, several torches have been haphazardly affixed to the rock to provide light when needed. Ghostly blue flames dance along them from Sans’ magic, seemingly brighter than what is natural. Now that Sans is in a larger area, he gets to his feet and stretches his impressive wingspan, rolling his skull to crack a few vertebrae in his neck back into place. The monster turns to face his guest, and the otherworldly lighting casts dark shadows on his features that make him look much more menacing than before. “why not have a seat? take a load off. anywhere’s fine.”

 

They’re staring again. First at him, still not quite over the fact that he  _ exists _ , then at what most humans never see and live to tell the tale. There’s more gold than Frisk thinks they’ve ever seen in their entire lifetime, along with some very intricate looking sculptures, weapons, medals...all generously encrusted with precious stones. Near the center are items more for comfort: long bolts of colored cloth and silk, some luxurious woven rugs, and a respectable amount of exotic furs. A true hoard worthy of a dragon.

 

He notices they’re distracted, and decides to go for it.

 

In a second, Frisk finds themselves unnervingly close to the dragon’s face with his bony hand behind them, sharp phalanges splayed and curled at the ready. They squawk at just how  _ fast _ it all happened, and fall to the ground as his other hand slams forcefully next to them, barring any exit. 

 

“so. let me see if i got all of this right, yeah?” the monster drawls, drumming his phalanges on the solid rock and causing small tremors to jostle them, “you show up on this remote mountain, alone, reeking of blood. ya got no weapons i can see, and you just decided to go sight seein’ in the dead of night? in a storm? unprepared? cut the crap, kid.” 

 

They look like they’re about to argue, but he cuts them off.

 

“you’re awfully friendly, little human. who sent ya? or were you supposed to be a distraction? maybe bait? cause i’ll tell ya now; if you got some ‘friends’ out there i should know about, it’s in your best interest to be honest. i’m not exactly known for turning down tasty little things like yourself.” 

 

Ah, there it is. That look. Fear.

 

“hell, if you’re some sorta offering or something, just let me know. no need to be shy, pal. i treat my sacrifices real nice...and i just  _ love _ a willing treat...” Sharp claws curl inward in a grasping motion, and his smile parts ever so slightly to showcase his glistening, pointed canines. 

 

“Wait!” They squeak, eyes large and focused on the hungry gaze of the dragon, “No, I-I’m not an offering! I was...well, okay, I wasn’t  _ just  _ trying to take shelter from the rain, I might have been trying to wait out some...oh geez…” Frisk swallows the lump in their throat, trying to get their thoughts straight, “uh, some guys that I  _ thought _ were navigator-but I guess not? I needed an escort, and we were passing through the mountain…” 

 

A large glob of drool finally escapes the monster’s jaw and splatters next to Frisk, interrupting their thoughts and forcing a startled gasp from them.

 

“W-well, anyway, they must have been after my harp; I took it out to play for them a little, and they just...changed. Suggested going through the mountain would be faster, and...I got ambushed.” They raise their hands placatingly, trying to explain, “I ran in here, but they just wouldn’t  _ leave! _ And...and...Ohgodpleasedon’teatmeIdon’twanttodothatagain-”

 

“...wait, again? what’s that supposed to mean?” Sans leans in further, until the small human can feel the hot air exhaling through the monster’s teeth. They launch themselves backward instinctively, and are caught in his bony grasp. His eyelights dilate as a cry of pain from being handled so roughly pierces his skull. He starts unconsciously licking at his teeth.

 

“Please! I thought...we could be friends!” Frisk struggles a bit, those sharp eyes of theirs trying to reach him, “I’ve tried running out, and I just end up getting shot. And...and last time....” the human takes a moment to gaze fearfully at his drooling maw, “last time, I just ran in here blindly, and before I even  _ saw  _ you I was swallowed whole! I had no idea monsters still even lived here!”

 

He’s used to the whole “plead for your life” thing, but this human seems to be talking nonsense. Maybe it’s the blood loss. “can’t say i’ve ever made friends with a human, kid. not healthy to get too attached to food. and i’m pretty sure you’d be nothing but magic running through my bones by now if any of that was true. so, with that said, why don’t we go back to that ‘me swallowing you whole’ part...” 

 

“I know it doesn’t make sense, but wait-!”

 

The dragon notices the bag still slung on the human’s back, and maneuvers his grip so he can wrench it off of them with his other hand, ignoring their protests. The bag is turned and given a little shake, but the only thing that falls out is  _ something  _ wrapped in what looks like thick linen. The human stops babbling to watch nervously as he reaches out to touch it.

 

As soon as the tip of his claw makes contact, he’s flooded with a very sharp and very familiar wave of magical energy. In an instant the wrappings are hastily shredded by his own magic, and the object within is levitated in front of the dragon’s eyes for closer inspection. 

 

It can’t be…

 

...

 

It’s a dragon’s horn, affixed to some strings in the form of a crude, but well cared for harp. There’s no mistaking the shape and magical signature. It’s small, much smaller than Sans’s. His horns are prominent: thick and twisting, curling once before spearing upwards. A physical feature that stores reserves of raw power, which grow and curl as a dragon ages, or...as they consume sources of power. It’s about the length of his finger, but has enough wear that it couldn’t have been a child’s.

 

It’s Papyrus’s. The left one, he’s sure.

 

Several emotions crash over him: first, disbelief. How did this human have this? For Papyrus’s horn to have been traded around...repurposed...he had suspected he was killed for his horns, sure, due to the greed of humans, but…

 

Grief hits next. It’s been so long since he’s felt that warm energy, still lingering in what remains of him. He can feel his brother’s strength, his kindness. The dragon grasps the horn carefully, holding it close to his chest. His very soul quakes in its presence, having been convinced he’d never feel his brother again. Even in this….form.

 

His bones start to rattle as he feels white hot rage sear through him. “k i d….” He growls, the tone deep, commanding, and loud in the rocky enclosure, “d o  y o u h a v e a n y i d e a w h a t t h i s i s ?”

 

“I…” The human tries to focus on the object, even though they can  _ feel  _ the crackling of angry energy causing every hair on their body to stand on end. “I just felt that it had a large amount of magic and it...seemed to be calling out. That’s the best way I can describe it...I found it and made it into a harp- _ hurk! _ ” 

 

He doesn’t realize his grip on them has tightened until he feels and hears them lose their breath. He reluctantly loosens it again so they can finish, “- _ huff _ \- ah, I’m guessing this is pretty important to you, somehow...I’m sorry, really! I thought it might have been some sort of monster artifact, but…” 

 

They look back at him and shrink into themselves at the murderous intent they see in his eyes. Even through their haze of fear, the dragon’s expression tells Frisk all they need to know about this creature and his experience with their kind. 

 

Sans holds back a derisive snort. He needs to think about this with a clearer head, because if there’s one horn, maybe there’s another...but it’s just so difficult to. His fury and hatred mixed with that  _ damn smell  _ are clouding his judgement, fueling his desire for blood. For  _ revenge _ . They’re inches from his skull, firmly in his grasp. Fragile. Easy. And yet...he feels himself hesitating. 

 

“...Sans…?”

 

Their eyes are locked with his, and even though his gaze is piercing and fierce, theirs become soft. And determined. “Please...why are you doing this? What did I do?”

 

The question surprises him, because really, what HAVE they done? Sans closes his eye sockets and takes a deep breath. They really haven’t done anything. Nothing deserving of how he’s been treating them, anyway. Even if they are human. The dragon even finds he kind of actually _ likes _ them. Is he really so far gone that he’d throw away all of his morality? No, not yet. When he opens his eyes again the smoldering flames that were his eye lights have dimmed and smoothed out.

 

“this…” he delicately cradles the object in two claws, “is a dragon’s horn. you got mugged because, like you said, it’s packed full of magical energy. but as you can see, it’s pretty small, yeah?” The human glances back at it, then back up towards his own towering horns. He notices, and chuckles dryly, “heh, yeah, compared to mine, it’s real small. wanna know why they’re so different?” The monster parts his fangs, a dripping, translucent blue tongue snaking out to wiggle just in front of their shocked face, “s’cause, as i’m sure you’re aware, i’ve had a healthy diet of humans. and you humans got some powerful little souls. so, my body is more than happy to accommodate that surplus of energy.” He draws back his tongue, resisting the powerful urge to have even a taste of them just yet. He’s not sure he’d be able to stop himself if he did. 

 

“but him? he’d never harm anyone, let alone a human. even this is pretty impressive, considering it was formed from his own natural reserves.” He gestures to the horn again, his eyelights dimming further, “my brother...he probably never even saw the strike coming. never considered even the possibility that...it would end this way.”

 

The only sound for a while is the downpour of rain hitting rock from outside. Sans focuses on the comforting energy emitting from the artifact, realizing only now how  _ content  _ it feels. His brother may be gone, but what’s left of him seems at peace with being transformed into something crafted with such care. 

 

“...yeah, i was kinda pissed that you did this to his horn, but. uh. i guess you kinda made him happy, in a way. at least this ain’t in the hands of a mage.” He continues, feeling his anger leave him the longer he basks in Papyrus’s magic.

 

By the time he looks back at Frisk’s face, he’s shocked to see tears, actual  _ tears  _ streaming down their cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Sans…” They whisper, so fervently...so quiet, so  _ weak _ . And then they close their eyes, and don’t open them again. 

 

...

 

Shit, are they dead?!

 

He snaps his arm up to check on them, bringing them close to his eye sockets to better see their face.

 

...No, just passed out. Probably lost too much blood...and that thought causes him to let out the breath he was holding and actually spring into action.

 

“c’mon kiddo, stay with me…” His left eye flares to life, and a green aura shines around the hand grasping his captive. He readjusts his grip to slide a phalange down to the area the injury is, and presses. The human lets out a little cry of pain, but otherwise remains unconscious as the dragon mends the wound. He’s not entirely sure healing magic will be enough, since he’s never really had to heal a human before...but the thought of this one dying doesn’t sit well with him. 

 

He remembers what they told him, about how they ended up here, and given the nature of the instrument they used for performing he’s certain they’re being used as bait. Whoever was after them steered them here, gambling that they would see his cave and seek shelter. Then they were attacked, leaving a large enough wound that Frisk would bleed everywhere and entice him. And now the assholes are just waiting for Sans to finish the job for them. Most likely they’re going to wait for him to leave, then pilfer the harp from his dinner’s discarded garments, maybe help themselves to few other trinkets. Or worse...they think they can trap his den using the smell of blood as a cover. This poor kid probably has no idea.

 

After a few minutes, the green light fades, and the skeletal behemoth turns toward the center of his nest with his guest still grasped tightly in his bony hand. Their shirt is stained red, and the monster would really rather not dirty his sleeping quarters with gore. He eyes the offending garment, reasoning that he only wants to make sure he doesn’t get blood everywhere. 

 

Right. No ulterior motive here. 

 

His other hand reaches out, and he slides a claw just under the hem. A flex of his phalange and the shirt rips right off of their body. He raises them closer, inspecting their torso for any lingering damage. Healing magic really isn’t his strong suit in the first place. When he finds none, he licks his teeth eagerly and slides his wet tongue across their skin.  _ i’m just cleaning them up a little _ he reminds himself. And he needs to keep reminding himself, because they taste so  _ sweet.  _

 

He eagerly laps up the crimson staining Frisk’s body, taking great care to not miss a single drop. He doesn’t want to get his bed dirty, after all. Right? 

 

Right. 

 

The beast is more than a little disappointed when the task is over with, and very briefly entertains the idea that he doesn’t  _ have _ to stop here. With a resigned sigh, the thought is discarded.

 

He lays them down on one of the thicker furs of his nest, noting just how fragile they feel when he’s actually trying to be gentle. Usually that fact is amusing, thrilling even, but now...it makes him feel strange. He reaches back further into the cave and rummages through the piles of past victims’ clothing and armor he’s too lazy to get rid of, and pulls out a fairly unremarkable cloak that isn’t too torn up. He drapes the garment over them, not bothering to try figuring out how to dress a human properly, before curling up around them like a cat. If they manage to survive the night, perhaps they’ll be the first human to enter his den and not end up in his stomach. 

 

The behemoth looks back over to the dragon horn harp, and quickly beckons it over to him again with his magic. Being extra careful, he grazes against one of the many strings and plucks it. The soft tone of the note that plays is beautiful. It’s fitting that something that came from his brother can make such a sound.

 

A wave of drowsiness sweeps over the skeleton, making him yawn widely. He intended to stay awake to see if the human regained consciousness, but...he can barely seem to keep his eye sockets open now. Before he knows it, the dragon’s breathing becomes deep and he succumbs to the call of sleep.


	2. Big But-Not-Always-So-Bad Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, with more flustering the skeleton, and then dealing with more guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow finally using those vore tags. Glorious, self indulgent vore tags...

The first rays of sunshine filter in through cracks in the wall, painting the cave in lines and dots of gold and orange. A bright streak glides over Sans’ eye sockets and he utters a tired grunt, scrunching them closed further in defiance to morning’s call and snuggling further into his comfy nest. He goes to grasp a fistful of the soft furs next to him-

 

“AAAHH!!”

 

A small voice squeals at the action, and just like that he’s wide awake with his magic crackling at his fingertips. The bright, sharp points of light in the monster’s eyes hone in on the source, which is...a very frightened human sprawled out under his clawed hand. 

 

“...oh.”

 

The events of last night begin to resurface: there’s a human in his den, and he didn’t kill them. That’s...certainly a first.

 

“so you aren’t dead then. good to know.” Sans states casually, dismissing the hostile energy in the air and regaining his mask of nonchalance. He withdraws his hand slowly, propping up his skull with it and looking down on his guest, “you sleep well, kid?”

 

“Where is my shirt?! Have I been like this all night?!” Frisk squeals, clutching the cloak he provided to their chest in desperation. Sans can’t help but chortle at the display, especially since their face has gone beet red and they refuse to make eye contact with him. Humans are such prudes. 

 

“uh, i wasn’t about to have ya leaking all over my stuff. it hadta go. but hey, i’m sure there’s something in that pile over there you could make fit.” The dragon jabs his bony thumb behind him. Frisk glances up to see what he’s talking about, and the color drains from their previously flushed face.

 

“Those...are they…?” The human starts, but can’t quite get the rest of the question out. Sans’s grin quirks up to one side, but he stays silent. They shake their head vigorously, “No...no way! I’m not gonna...gonna sift through clothes from...d-dead people!” 

 

He chuckles dryly. “geez, kid, there ain’t really any other options for ya, okay? s’not like they were dead when they were wearin’ ‘em. so quit yer squawkin’ unless you want more than just lil ol’ me to see what’s underneath that cloth, eh?” Sans raises a brow with a hint of mischief in his eyes, getting a kick out of once again flustering his tiny guest.

 

“Did you look?? Oh my god! Just...turn around or something, then!”

 

He rolls his eyes with a sigh, muttering something about his own lack of clothes, but does as requested. After a bit of shuffling, he glances back at them to see that they’ve opted to tie the cloak around themselves like some sort of sleeveless top. He grins at them with mirth, “ya know, Frisk…” They look up at him in surprise at the use of their name, “that’s a good choice...m’pretty sure i remember that one. just got added to my collection yesterday, prolly about your size...nice little pick-me-up on a lazy afternoon.” he teases, shrugging “anyhow, just thought you should know.” 

 

Frisk makes a face at that, something between disgust and morbid curiosity as they pull at the fabric, “I think I’d rather not know the details…” they murmur, subconsciously shifting to press their hand into their side when they finally notice the absence of their injury. “Wait...what? There’s no way that should have healed overnight….” The human thinks aloud, pulling the cloth aside to inspect their midsection closer. All that’s left is a faint scar in a jagged pattern, which they trace with their fingers in disbelief. 

 

“listen.”

 

They look up at the dragon again, whose expression has shifted into something more contemplative. He studies them for a second, before taking a deep breath and letting it out, “you don’t seem like a bad kid. you got mixed up in some bad shit. like, enough bad shit that you probably shouldn’t even have survived, so...i’ve decided to give you another chance.” The skeletal behemoth shifts his arm aside, delicately picking up Frisk’s harp and cradling it in his hand.

 

“my brother’s horn for your life. seems like a fair trade, eh?”

 

Their eyes widen at that, scrambling to stand and move toward their harp “No, wait! I can’t give that to you! I need-”

 

A ferocious snarl interrupts them, Sans’s hand curling protectively around his prize. Frisk flinches and swallows thickly, a small shudder travelling down their spine at the animalistic sound. 

 

“Sans...it’s not like I’m not thankful for you saving me, and I know that horn is important to you, but it’s important to me too. That’s my livelihood! Without my harp, I have nothing! Isn’t there something else I could…” They trail off when they realize his eyes haven’t lost their sharpness in the least, and their shoulders begin to slump in defeat.

 

“there’s no bargaining. be grateful that i’m taking the risk of letting you go at all; you’re a huge liability.” He mutters. And it’s true; this human now knows more about him than any other, whether they realise that or not. Frisk’s heartbroken expression cracks his stony resolve just a bit, though; his ever present smile tightens into more of a grimace the longer he stares at it. How the hell did this kid worm their way into his soul so quickly? 

 

“ah geez...okay listen” he huffs, “i’ll make you a deal, okay? if,  _ somehow _ , you can locate my bro’s other horn, i’ll give ya this one back in return-”

 

“But how-”

 

“- _ but, _ ” he interupts, “until then, if it even  _ is _ out there, there's no way i’m parting with this. you’re practically painting a target on your back by carrying it anyway, as you found out.”

 

“That sounds impossible…even if I find a real dragon horn, how can I even know if it’s the right one? And what am I supposed to do until then…?” They lament, gazing longingly at the instrument.

 

“make another or somethin’, i dunno. you did a damn good job with this one, so i’m sure you can manage.” Frisk just sighs. “it sounds pretty, too; s’too bad my claws are so big. can’t do more than pluck it if i’m real careful.” He caresses the side gently, fondly.

 

Frisk’s face suddenly breaks out into a hopeful, excited smile, “Oh! What if I come visit every now and then and play it for you?!” They exclaim.

 

Sans’ grimace tightens further. “uh, i dunno kid...i don't exactly-”

 

“Please?? C’mon, Sans! You said yourself you don't get many visitors, right? That must get so lonely! And I have no idea how long finding the other horn will take...I can't stand the idea of that harp sitting silent for who knows how long...it loves to sing! Please?”

 

“i  _ meant  _ by ‘don’t get many visitors’ that-” he starts, but...god, that hopeful expression cuts him deep to his core. A violent cyan blush creeps up his face and he has to look away. The dragon makes an exasperated sound in the back of his throat; this is such a bad idea. What has he always said? Witnesses are dangerous. He shouldn’t be letting this human go at all, let alone come  _ back _ . Even if they’re harmless, they’ll invite trouble...people will talk, they’ll draw more attention, his habits and exact location could be leaked…

 

…

 

“kid, i’m not your friendly neighborhood dragon, you know,” he tries again, exasperated, “i’m a man-eater. i’ve cleared out kingdoms and villages of your kind before. i very nearly decided not to spare you at all and make you my snack last night, reasoning be damned. you shouldn’t involve yourself with a creature like me.”

 

That determined gleam returns to their eyes as their gaze meets his again, “You’re not a bad monster. Maybe you’ve done bad things...but I believe in you. You’re my friend, Sans.”

 

...

 

“...fine.”

 

The human cheers with glee, flinging themselves against the forearm the monster is propping himself up with, much to his surprise. His blush deepens, “alright alright, enough of that. it’s time you got outta here, i got things to do.” 

 

The behemoth snatches Frisk up in his boney clutches, distracting them away from his increasing embarrassment. How the hell is a human flustering him so much? He must be getting soft. 

 

Heh, a skeleton, getting soft…

 

Sans tucks the harp into his chest cavity, hanging from one of the ribs, and secures it with a touch of blue magic. That should keep it safe from dirty vultures.

 

“alright, so i’m gonna need  _ you  _ to keep quiet once we leave-” he instructs, securing his guest in his grasp, “-and  _ i'm  _ gonna convince any bothersome spies that you ended up as dinner last night.” The human baulks at that statement, but instead of explaining the monster busies himself with retrieving Frisk’s bloodied shirt and wedging it between his lower canines. He turns to them and gives them a toothy grin. “so? whaddaya think? does this scream ‘man, i totally ate that random and not at all suspicious human’ or what?”

 

Frisk makes a face. “Well, yeah I guess? But why does that matter?”

 

He shrugs, satisfied with that answer, and begins crawling out of the mountain with his companion. “not your problem. now be quiet, or your would-be murderers will hear us.”

 

After just a few minutes they emerge from the mountain, the dazzling sun blinding as it rises in a brilliant display of fiery oranges and reds. The ground is still damp from the evening storm, and a small stream of water trickles down the cliffside above to feed into a nearby spring. Sans takes a deep breath of fresh air, looking over the horizon for a good spot to drop his charge off at. With his destination set, the dragon stretches out his wingspan and prepares to take flight. Shimmering magic wisps flicker along the delicate bones, filling them out and making them more substantial with ethereal blue membranes. A few powerful flaps and the beast is airborne, soaring above the canopies of the surrounding forest. 

 

They continue on for miles, the sea of emerald below them neverending. Faintly, the dragon can feel his passenger shivering in his hold, whether from cold or fear he isn’t sure. The edge of the forest comes into view, at which point Sans begins to slow down and descend. Considering his size (and lack of any real finesse), the landing isn’t the most graceful. The monster hits the ground with a deafening thud, scaring flocks of surprised birds that quickly scatter in every direction. The shimmer fades from the monster’s wings, until they are nothing but intricate bone once more, and he tucks and folds them behind him. He unfurls his fist, makes sure Frisk is still in one piece, and lowers it.

 

“That was...just...wow.” Frisk breathes as they’re gently placed back on solid ground. “Terrifying, but amazing! I can’t believe I just flew!”

 

“you’re easy to impress.” 

 

“Well I don’t have wings, or magic, or a whole mountain where I sleep on heaps of treasure all day!” 

 

“hey now. i only sleep  _ most _ of the day. i spend the rest thinking about sleeping.” He winks with a cheeky grin. “but hey, gotta cut this short.” Frisk’s shirt is picked from his teeth and tossed unceremoniously at their feet, “the nearest town is about, eh, four hours to the east by foot i’d say. i’m a bit too big to get you any closer safely.”

 

Frisk turns to look back at him, studying his face as if to etch it into their mind so they won’t forget. “Thanks, Sans. Really. I’m not going to give up on my harp, so expect to see me again soon, okay? I promise.” They offer him a small smile, warm and filled with bright intent. He offers a wider, more genuine grin in return.

 

“i’ll hold you to that, kiddo. just...keep what happened yesterday to yourself. i’ve got a reputation to maintain, ya know? anyway...uh...take care of yourself, alright? til’ next time.”

 

And in the blink of an eye, or a wink in his case, the skeletal behemoth vanishes before their eyes. They gasp in surprise, scrambling over to where he just was, but the only thing he left behind is their forgotten rucksack. “How…? Geez, he really is a show off.” They laugh, and with a sigh go to retrieve the bag, but find it heavier than expected.

 

“Wha?” 

 

They tug harder, and the sack falls on its side, spilling its contents. They gape at it, unbelieving. Gold coins...it is absolutely stuffed full of gold coins.

 

…

 

How are they supposed to carry all that by themselves for four hours?!

 

______________________________________________________________________________

  
  


Sans reappears right outside the cave entrance, startling a lookout stationed just outside. Typical. Reacting quickly, a row of thick bones break through the ground behind them, reaching all the way into the solid rock ceiling. Whoever is trespassing inside his home is now effectively trapped inside...and this unfortunate soul is trapped out here with him.

 

The force of the bones erupting was enough to knock the watchman off his feet, and he quickly scrambles backwards until he feels the sturdy gate press unforgivingly against his back. “D-damn! How the fuck did you even do that?! You couldn’t have sn-snuck up on me!” He shouts in disbelief, trembling ever so slightly. The dragon moves forward to further corner his prey, his large form blocking out the sun and casting a looming shadow over them.

 

“thought you’d see big ol’ me comin’ from a mile away, eh? well, let’s just say i’ve got a few tricks up my metaphorical sleeves. heh.” The skeleton holds out his arm and tugs at his wrist, chuckling to himself. “so. what brings you to my humble abode? need to borrow a cup of sugar?” His grin is just ever so slightly tilted to accentuate his long canines.

 

“Uh…” They say, dumbstruck. “L-look man, I’m not looking for any trouble! I was just hiking a bit, that’s all, I’ll get outta your hair if you just-”

 

“buddy. pal. we both know that’s a   **d i r t y  l i e.** ” Sans cuts them off, his rumbling voice quickly shutting them up. “‘sides, i don’t have hair for you to get into in the first place. skeleton an’ all that. but...” The monster leans in slowly, causing his hapless victim to futilely try and backpedal further away. “i got somewhere else you can get into. and i’m real eager to show ya where that is.” 

 

“Wait! Let’s uh, talk about this, huh?” The human holds out their hands out in front of them in a placating manner, “There’s gotta be some kind of deal we can make or something, right?”

 

“sure. you’re gonna tell me how many vultures are in my den, and you’re gonna be damn sure you aren’t lying if you don’t want your limbs ripped out of their sockets.” 

 

“F-fuck man, it’s just me and one other guy, I swear! I was just standing around; he’s the one messing with your stuff! C’mon, have a heart and let me go, please!” They plead.

 

The skeleton guffaws at this, his voice loud and barking, “you are just killin’ it with these jokes today, human. ‘have a heart’. ha!” he stops to wipe an imaginary tear from his eye socket, “but ya know, the  _ real  _ funny part is hearing something like that from someone like  _ you _ .” The man cringes at the sharp look in Sans’s eyes, “so quick to turn on your own, just to save your own skin….or to line your pockets. naw, ‘m afraid it’s the end of the line for you, pal. you and your buddy are _ breakfast _ now.” 

 

Sans begins to reach his clawed hand toward the human, and in a panic they unsheathe their knife and slash at him as soon as they draw the blade. There’s a resounding clang of metal on hard bone, but the dragon is undeterred by the deflected weapon and flicks it out of his prey’s grasp. The man clutches his wrist and recoils in pain before being abruptly seized in the beast’s clutches. The dragon squeezes roughly and chuckles darkly at the pained wheezes he forces out of them, drawing them closer to his sharp smile. “sorry to break it to ya pal, but ordinary weapons ain’t good enough to dent me. but please, by all means...put up a fight for me.” 

 

The monster slowly parts its jaws, glistening saliva connecting his top canines to the lower ones until the strings snap as he opens his mouth wider. He dangles his victim above his hungry maw, translucent blue tongue lolling out eagerly and predatory gaze piercing into their terrified one. Sweat beads at their brow and the man kicks in a frenzy trying to wrench free and escape his fate. With agonizing slowness, Sans lowers them down until they reach his slimy tongue, pushing them forward so they land face first on its wet, spongy surface and pinning them there with his finger. He teases them there a bit, smooshing them down against the wriggling organ even as they attempt to push away with their hands, giving them an initial taste. Hot, humid air washes over the man from the bowels of the beast, the behemoth’s deep baritone voice mixing with the sound of breathing. He feels himself start to salivate even more, pushing them further along, sliding them deeper in and withdrawing his slender phalange to close his teeth and seal them inside. Then begins the familiar process of flipping his meal around with his tongue to savor their unique flavor. 

 

It soon becomes apparent that, in his haste, Sans forgot to “unwrap” his food and is mostly tasting cloth and leather. Clothes are so bothersome. The monster maneuvers his snack around with his tongue and teeth in such a way as to gradually pull off the offending things, snaking his tongue underneath the fabric to pull and push while continuing to taste. This causes the morsel to thrash about more violently, voicing its displeasure with garbled shouts and pleas. “ _ Hm hm hmf… _ ” Sans snickers at their expense, the sound slightly muffled. His lashing tongue is relentless, and doesn’t let up until he’s torn or peeled off most of the garments. With a satisfied noise, he shifts the clothing forwards towards his teeth, then presses the human tightly against his palette with his tongue. He picks the clothes drenched in drool out of his mouth, carelessly tossing them aside and going back to enjoying his squirming meal. He hopes they squirm this much in his belly. The feisty ones are always a real treat.

 

As if on cue, the beast’s stomach gurgles and rumbles impatiently, demanding he get on with it and deliver the eagerly anticipated food. So, with a pat to his gut to settle it, he tilts his head back and drags the unfortunate human down his gullet with a thick, powerful gulp. “mmmmmmm…” the monster purrs, feeling that heavy weight travelling down, down, deeper and deeper inside of him where it can’t hope to escape. He sighs with satisfaction and glances down at his formed belly to spot the barely visible shadowy outline of the struggling human through the semi-translucent blue. He’s still pretty hungry, and they aren’t likely to keep him satisfied for long. “don’t worry pal, your friend’ll be joining you in there very,  _ very  _ shortly.”

 

_ ~Gurgle~Blurp~ _

 

“you’re right, let’s not waste time and go see what they’re up to, eh?”

 

The bone wall is dismissed with a flick of his wrist, and he bends down to crawl through the entrance to his cave. He inches along leisurely, not bothering to attempt stealth at this point since he wasn’t exactly quiet about eating the lookout. “fee fi fo fum~” he hums playfully, summoning a cluster of sharp, thin bones to hover by his side as he goes along. When the giant emerges in the center of the mountain, his den is still. Much to his dismay, several piles of treasure have been haphazardly picked through and tossed around. 

 

“tch, way to make a mess of my mess.” The dragon grumbles, taking a deep breath through his nasal aperture to locate any unfamiliar scents, “well pal, let’s just take our time and have some fun, huh? just you and me, now...i know you’re cowering in here somewhere.” He licks his canines, searching around with his eyelights for movement. The behemoth wastes no more time and starts pushing or overturning pile after pile of treasure to scare out his prey. The razor sharp bones floating nearby scatter and pierce a few more, sending trinkets rolling. 

 

“c’mon out, little rabbit...or i’ll drag you out like the animal you are.”

 

He slams his bony fist down on a pile of gold to emphasize, the tinny sound of metal sharp and sudden as the coins spray in every direction from the force. Wouldn’t have been very pleasant if that’s where they had been hiding, but luckily for them it wasn’t. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a shadow make a break for the exit, but he’s faster; he throws his whole body at them, pouncing like an enormous cat and catching the unfortunate soul in his cupped hands. He chuckles excitedly, feeling the dull bite of a knife frantically slashing at the cage of bone his clawed phalanges have created. He closes his hand into a fist until he’s firmly grabbed the human, putting more pressure on their arm until they’re forced to release the knife in their hand with a clang on the stone floor.

 

“Shit! How the fuck did you even get here so fast? Damn monster…” The bandit curses, unable to do much besides wheeze and wiggle. “Fuckin’ coward musta bolted at the first sight of you, the bastard.” 

 

Sans chortles darkly, “oh i’m sure he woulda if he had the chance, but i don’t take chances. i’m not a monster that likes to play unless the deck’s stacked in my favor, ya get me?” He holds their gaze, his deft tongue flicking out briefly, “i like to win. and i play for keeps.”

 

With that, the dragon lies back in the center of his comfy nest, his captive in tow. He turns them this way and that, scrutinizing them as they try to wrench themselves free. “You expect me to believe a huge ass dragon took that bastard by surprise?” the man scoffs, “Yeah right; he’s probably already halfway down the mountain by now, and he’s gonna sell away the info about you, you know! I can show you the path we took up here if you’ll make a deal! You can still-”

 

Sans interrupts the monologue by smooshing the bandit up against his gurgling belly, holding him there. “you hear that, pal?” Another, louder gurgle, “that’s the sound of your buddy getting to know the inside of my gut intimately. in fact...i can still feel ‘em squirmin’. can you?” The monster watches in amusement as the human struggles more violently, clearly very uncomfortable at the thought of only being separated from his former partner by nothing more than the magic of the beast’s stomach. 

 

After about a minute of their distressed thrashing, Sans finally relents and brings the bandit back up to his eye level, “he was also pretty eager to sell you out so he could escape. i guess it’s not that surprising, considering the reason you guys are here and all.” The bright lights in the skeleton’s eyes start to dim, then snuff themselves out until the unnatural dark looming inside his skull fills out the eye sockets, looking ready to overflow and spill out. 

 

“...you’re both pretty gross people, aren’t ya?” 

 

Sweat starts beading at the man’s temple, his nervousness overtaking his previous outrage. His jaw clenches tighter, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as adrenaline starts kicking in. The monster can feel it. Can  _ smell  _ it in the air: that intoxicating moment where the reality of the situation starts to set in for his prey. It puts the skeletal predator’s instincts into overdrive. 

“but hey,” Sans continues conversationally, closing his eye sockets and reaching his free hand into his ribcage to retrieve the treasured harp from inside, “even gross people still taste good, luckily for me. so you got that goin’ for ya at least.” His eyelights have returned when he opens his eyes again, gaze lingering on the curved bone of the horn as if considering something. 

 

The human gapes at the instrument in disbelief, “...you wanted this, right?” Sans asks, “here, hold on.” The harp is thrust into the human’s hands suddenly, and they instinctively grab it. 

 

As soon as they do, however, the hand holding them begins to loosen its grip, and with a surprised (and undignified) yelp they latch onto the dragon horn harp neck to keep from plummeting. Just like that, they’re left dangling precariously from it, right above Sans’s eager, drooling maw. 

 

“there we go...now you’re in a pretty hopeless situation, eh? given the illusion of choice: you could hold on indefinitely, or let go and accept your fate. sounds kinda familiar, doesn’t it? kinda like the visitor i got last night.” He muses, watching idly as the bandit desperately tries to get a firmer hold, “they could either choose to sit in a cave and hope the man-eating dragon doesn’t get ‘em, or go back out where the humans that betrayed ‘em are waiting to murder ‘em. luckily for them, they got a third option, but you?” His wolfish grin becomes sharp, full of predatory intent, “let’s just hope for your sake you never get tired...cause the man-eating dragon found you instead.”

 

They continue to hang, their breath coming out in short, panicked bursts and their eyes darting below every now and then, “Don’t-don’t fuckin’ do this!” They yell, “I’ll do whatever! C’mon, please!!” Sans brings his other hand into play again, ignoring their pleas and dragging his sharp claws down their body, ripping away their layers of leather clothing. His amused snickering echoes across the cave walls every time his prey kicks and yells at his sadistic teasing, thoroughly enjoying playing with his food.

 

“why not just let go?” He taunts, “it’s not so bad being my food. i’m not cruel...unlike you. it won’t even hurt. it’d be so much easier for you if you just gave up…”

 

Time passes.

 

Their grip holds.

 

“ya know, my favorite humans to eat are the prideful ones,” Sans continues, “the ones that think they can keep me from getting what i want outta them. it’s always so satisfying to strip them down to their basic instincts and remind them of their place in the world.” He not-so-subtly pats his impatiently gurgling belly for emphasis.

 

…

 

Their arms are wavering with effort, but still they hold on.

 

...

 

“i know you’re getting tired. soon, your hands will start to slip...your body will feel heavier and heavier, and letting go will sound better and better.” He rasps, “and then i’ll get to savor your tender, delicious flesh. just watching you struggle so pathetically is making me so damn hungry…” The dragon growls deep in his throat, licking up a trail of drool from his teeth before it pools over onto the ground.

 

The man starts to slip as predicted, making little choking noises from the strain of holding up his own weight. 

 

“that’s right...c’mon…” He coos. 

 

They practically whimper as they slide down to only their fingertips, arms shaking.

 

“almost...come to me, my little morsel.”

 

With a final strained cry, the human lets go, plummeting down to his fate. His final view is that of the dragon’s parted teeth, spread wide to reveal the lolling blue tongue, glistening with saliva, leading back to the muscles of the dark, open throat. The bandit lands on the squishy surface, and with a snap of the carnivore’s teeth they’re monster food. There’s no effort to resist as they’re mercilessly tossed around, too exhausted to put up any more of a fight. Their tired body is pushed, prodded at, and flipped by the overeager tongue, swiping across every inch of their skin for a taste. The skeleton’s eye lights are blown wide and hazy with satisfaction, sightless as he loses himself in his powertrip from their helplessness.

 

Finally sated, Sans nudges his treat back towards his gullet with the blue appendage. He brings his phalanges up to his throat, and when he swallows down his prey with a wet gulp, he feels the bulge they make as they’re forced down into his body. “ngh, so fuckin’ good…” he mutters to himself, basking in the feeling of being full and the last remaining flavor of his meal. He stays like that for a while, listening to the churning of his own belly while he rubs it and relaxes in the early morning.

 

He remembers the harp in his hand, and holds it up to a beam of light above him, watching as the sunlight catches on the silvery strings. Frisk….they really do intend to come back, don’t they? A human, considering him a friend…

 

If they had been here to witness this whole display, he wonders just how “good” of a monster they’d still think he was. If they’d finally see just how frightened of him they should be. 

 

Still…

 

Even though it’s risky, and stupid, and probably pretty unlikely...

 

He finds that he really doesn’t mind the idea of seeing them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, fellow vore enthusiasts! And thanks everyone for all the kind comments you've given me; it really helped inspire me to continue! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm about halfway done with chapter two, so it's gonna happen (eventually). Thanks for reading!


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